Something is glinting over my battered head which starts to ache badly. It is bruised and I realise I was hit with something heavy and metallic. My senses come into existence with high loaded wince and a shoot of pain through my calves and wrists.
My body winds into a reflexive action but I am bonded like a prison within a straitjacket and it starts to suffocate me. Memories threaten to blunder the confines of my mind and I barely manage to grit my teeth and hurt my lips preventing to heave whatever remains in between the broken ribs and empty stomach.
"Tsk, Tsk, I warned you to stay away, Cara, wish you would have listened to me," his straight and menace laced voice hurts my ear drums as I struggle further to set myself free. Within a beat of second, the bulb flickers and turns off, giving a warped version of terror building in my gut and exuding shame of not being knowledgeable enough before about his intentions in the terms of sweat flooding my spine and my forehead.
He swabs his rough and torn cuffs at me when my almond shaped coffee coloured eyes try to adjust and fit the vision in the middle of the extreme darkness.
My forehead avert in resentment and I spit at the side of his face, nearing me and leaning forward toward my earlobe with anger rushing from him in heavy yet maintained amount of breaths he intakes.
"B**ch, who will save you now? You're mine now!"
An incredulous and diabolical laugh infests in the confinement whereas my mind shuts off and trails back to the time where it all began. I shouldn't have trusted him. I should have run away. When it was the time and when life gave me second chance, I shouldn't have tried to dig into my past or fall in love with Role Baxton.
Because, doing so was the beginning of the end; end of Cara Michaelson.
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Memories Mistaken
Mystery / Thriller#75 - strangers 15/11/18 Thorns of my past embedded in my soul and on my body. I could no longer remember who I was and my identity was mistaken. They said I was Alissa Merchant, a Brown University Graduate and a wife to Mr. Role Baxton. The pictur...
